


Shoppeth Talk

by Ononymous



Series: Christmas 2018 Stories and Requests [11]
Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Deltarune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 07:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17300093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ononymous/pseuds/Ononymous
Summary: A bizarrely graceful and stylish stranger with prose more purple than his face wanders into Asgore's Flower Shop one day, but he soon finds something he can relate to.





	Shoppeth Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Original Request: I want a cozy Rouxls fic. Doesn't matter what or how.

A claw tapped gently against the glass of the jar. No matter how much the claw's owner tapped, the golden flower inside remained still and undisturbed. That was a relief. After the power cut last week they'd been exposed to the ambient atmospheric conditions despite his best efforts, and all seven of them had put up an admirable fight, but it was agony to spot the microscopic signs of ailment. Any time not spent with a customer had been upstairs, applying just the right amount of fertilizer and strategic deployments of his own-recipe anti-fungal solution to their stems, even quite happily shutting off the boiler to minimise the difference in temperature between inside the jars and out. It looked like all that hard work had paid off, they had mostly recovered. He should be able to actually greet a customer in the shop for once-

_Ding-a-ling!_

Oh well. "Coming," called Asgore. He lumbered down the stairs into the shop. "Howdy! What can I do for you?"

Asgore hadn't met this person before. Tall and mostly skinny, though his shoulders were pretty wide. He was tightly wrapped in an expensive looking brown coat, with a matching scarf and leather gloves, looking slightly overdressed for the autumn weather. The style continued past his belt with navy pinstriped trousers and highly polished shoes. Those clothes might just have come from a courthouse and he had been arguing a case. Shoulder legnth platinum-blond hair rested above a contrastingly dark purplish-blue face. From an almost frozen smile Asgore made out white teeth, though his brain kept telling him it was a solid block of white. Large eyes looked at Asgore with an intense energy.

And when Asgore had finished descending, his customer genuflected, gazing at the worn tiles of the floor.

"Hail to thou, mine liege!"

Asgore scratched his head. "My... liege? I'm sorry sir, I don't know what you mean."

Those manic eyes reappeared. "I hast soughtst whence the Lord of theseth lands dwelldst, and lo and behold mine eyes resteth upon yonder sign, ' _The Flower King_ '. And yay, I beholdst one of such nobleth stature and body hair his royaltyness doth be beyond reproach!"

Asgore continued to scratch, trying to parse the archaic dialect of the man. "You think I'm a... Oh golly, that sounds flattering, but no, I'm not a real king. 'Flower King' is just a nickname my friend Rudy gave me in college. When my wife pointed out I'd forgotten to give this shop a name, it was all I could think of on short notice."

The man stared at him with mounting disbelief. And then he slammed his fists onto the floor. " **GOD. DAMMIT!** "

"Goodness! Is everything alright?"

"Silence, thou worm! Thou whomst've spake naughtst but artifice and sham! Clutching at thrones beyondeth thou're reach and impugning the dignity befittingeth a Duke such as mineself!"

The briefest impulse crossed Asgore's mind to maybe call Officer Undyne or Blook who could maybe get the fellow to make more sense, but it passed. Despite his obvious frustration he hadn't attacked anyone or tried to break anything. It wouldn't be right to have someone arrested over merely being upset.

"Um, sir, can I help you?"

"Verily. Thou wilt directeth me to thou're actual sovereign, knave."

"But... we don't have a king. We have a mayor, but she's on a business trip today."

"Curses! A mere mayor doth be too prole to parleyeth wist a Duke as I." He looked dejected as he got to his feet. Asgore dared to pat him on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, sir. Say, would you like some tea? I find that helps in troubled times."

"...black, five sugars, stirred counter-clockwise eight times and clockwise once."

Ten minutes later the precisely prepared beverage was sitting by the dusty till. Asgore's was currently at his lips, while the gentleman finally took a drink of his own.

"Mmm. Forst such a pleb thou're teacraft is excellenteth."

"Well thanks, I guess," said Asgore. "So I'm sure it's none of my business, but why are you after a king to talk to?"

"Oh," replied the man with insincere humility, "the position I holdst with mine current liege be'st no longer tenable, so I seek a neweth position. Mine resume forst thou're perusal."

Asgore was presented with a slightly weathered looking piece of parchment with tiny and frankly stylish handwriting. At last he made out the name of his guest, which he'd deemed unnecessary to give before: " _His Grace, the Duke Rouxls Kaard_ ". Asgore lacked the context to make out what he was actually promoting regarding his skills, and most of the names and locations were unknown to him, save for two or three which reminded him of a boardgame he used to play with his children.

"Well, Mister Card-"

"Hold, worm! It'st 'Kaard', with a 'K'."

Asgore couldn't tell the difference, but pushed ahead, unperturbed by the peculiar encounter he was having. "Mister Kaard, what sort of things would you do if you were hired by another king?"

"Well thoust see, when the realm fellst into chaos, mine currenteth lord seized power forst naught but he. His onetimest colleagues be banished and rivals be imprisonedst. He doth reign most cruellyeth, declaring outsiders enemies withoutst cause, and all feareth his approach."

"Hmm," said Asgore, stroking his beard in thought, "that definitely sounds unpleasant."

"Indeed. I lov'st it so!"

Asgore's tea caught in his throat mid-swallow. Forcing it down, he pressed on in spite of himself. "So, what would you hope to do with a new job?"

Rouxls drank his own tea. "Hopefullyeth, much as I doth do now: Flatter the liege untilst mine appointment to his court, and amasseth personal power and wealthst, availing of opportunities to strike at mine rivals and grabst more as I canth, perhapst even ejecting his majesty fromst the throne."

Sheer curiosity compelled Asgore to engage with this unscrupulous fellow a little while longer. "If you don't mind your employer or what you do with him, why look for another job?"

"I wouldst not expecteth a prole to understand courtly concerns. But, if thou mustst knoweth, it'st the prince who hath stoked mine ire."

"The prince?" This fact unexpectedly resonated with Asgore. "Well what's the matter with him?"

"I knoweth not. Of late he rebuffst mine counsel and doeseth as he pleases, roaming the realm with no heed forst the time of day. I try'st to showeth him mine latest puzzle, yet he denounces them as 'Lame and Stupid'eth! I slaveth over coldst dirt to procure the juiciest worms for his dinner, yet all he craveth is cake and otherst fineries. His room ist freshly forbidden from mine entrance, he even hath ordered guards to denyeth mine ingress. And mostst heinous of all, his music pierceth mine ears regardless of the hour! Wellth, if he cares no longereth forst his Lesser Dad, mayhaps another more thoughtful lad might do so!"

Rouxls crossed his arms, clearly surrendering to pique. Asgore took another slow drink, partly in thought about what he'd been told, and partly to give himself time to decode the more esoteric parts.

"This prince of yours. How old is he?"

"Oh, he turneth ten and seven years inst threeth months. I just ordered the cake for it. Yet his actions are of the mostst wickedeth babe!"

"Seventeen," deciphered Asgore. "Well, your grace, I think what you've got there is a perfectly normal teenager. It's all part of growing up."

"Norm'l? 'Growing up? 'tis a process? He shalln't ariseth one morning having metamorphosedst into the strapping stature ofst his father?"

"Well, no. It's a gradual process, both physical and emotional." Rouxls looked so lost about it Asgore felt no awkwardness in explaining this. "It sounds like he's insecure about his position in life, and is trying to assert himself. It's perfectly normal. Asriel - my eldest, at university now - his mother told me how he went through a phase of staying in his bedroom and play-acting as a superhero or god or something. She wasn't too keen on the latter. Even made a costume and drew on his face. Devil of a time washing it out of his fur. All part of trying to take control of his life. Can't say I didn't understand, given everything going on."

"Well, didst she enthreaten him withst the dungeon for his insolence?"

"Goodness no! You put your foot down, they'll try to stomp on it. Insisting on your authority invites them to assert their own. You don't do nothing, but I've found it best to give them enough freedom to make mistakes. They will make mistakes, my youngest Kris is like that now, but when the chips are down, I think they'll know who they can count on."

Rouxls drummed his hands along the counter. "I see'th. Allowst them to swimeth to the deep end, and lifteth not a finger should they drownst. How innovative!"

"Well you want to rescue them," blurted Asgore, "but you have to let them try and stretch their wings. Water wings, I mean. I'm sure he still... well I'm not sure if care is the right term, but he won't forget you. When he's more secure, you'll see that."

"Hmm..." Rouxls finished his tea, thoughtlessly thrusting it in Asgore's hands like he was a waiter. "'haps I've err'd in mine priorities. I shall striveth to not striveth for every aspectst've his life, save whence his father commandeth elsewise. Lesser Dad's a respectstable title to haveth in thou're career, 'twould be squanderous to vacateth the position untimelyst."

"So, you aren't going to quit your job no?"

"Nay, Knave. Besides, it would be a pain to set up my store all over again."

"Well I'll drink to that." Asgore now finished his tea. "Good luck. Oh, one moment..."

Asgore lumbered over to a rainbow bouquet of roses, took out a white one and handed it to Rouxls.

"For the pleasant chat. It's been a while since I could talk about things like this. No charge."

"How fragrantst!" He threaded its stem in his buttonhole. "If the winds permit I shallst returneth here. Farewell, Flower King!"

"You have a good day too, Rouxls!" A beefy arm waved as he left the shop. "Oh dear, I don't think I ever told him my name. That's a shame."

The lanky figure cut a discrete profile as he strolled back through the town towards the school, sniffing his rose. _Firstst thing I shall act on is yonder royal laundry basketst, and 'haps check his biketh is in a valiant state for him. Wouldst be most frightful if he skimmedeth his knee._ Rouxls was distracted, however, by a fruitless examination of a house next to the grocery store, where instincts suggested he may find a kindred spirit.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
